twenty-thirteen

it’s the end of the year, and since the start of my blogging career (whatever the fuck that means) it has been a habit to conclude the year with some sort of bilantaine. and I am addressing this to you, because I cannot think of a different or more appropriate form to write this. every time I think that I have conveyed everything I meant to, more thoughts and unwritten words float to the surface. I can’t stop it.

I am writing this on the morning of december 5; well ahead of time before all of this goes live. these words will be edited and scrutinized and boiled over many times. but they will be true.

the first thing I saw this morning was a text message from you. it surprised me, really. we aren’t exactly in the habit of keeping in touch every day, although the frequency seems to be increasing lately. mandela is no more, you wrote. my heart sank. and then it sank a little bit more when I came to senses and realized what it actually meant. what also surprised me is that, the feeling I had was parallel to the one I have when I think about you. when I realize again that we are not what we used to be. that, we, too, are no more. sometimes, in my head, it’s all different, dreamy almost. I keep coming to terms with the reality, but the way it works, it seems as if I take one step forward, two steps backwards. I never told you this. I never told you many things. I don’t think we will ever truly be removed from each others’ lives.

maybe I am wrong about that. I have a tendency to lose track of what’s real.

twenty-thirteen was difficult, tough, character-affirming. twenty-thirteen was simply an aftermath of the year before. lessons learned, and learning to live with them. learning to live with my choices and my mistakes. I struggled to let go. to forgive, to find peace within. but more than anything else, I needed to find the strength to forgive you. we lost contact for an entire year. I never stopped thinking about you or checking in you. in my head, I was convinced that you were doing well. I had all these images of you being happy, blooming (again, whatever the fuck that means), having the best time of your life. it wasn’t until much later that I saw that I was wrong. I was wrong and it made me feel terrible. I wish, though, that it was you who reached out first; because now I am never sure whether you are only responding out of sheer politeness and not wanting to hurt my feelings. as if you could any more.

the same thing keeps happening over and over in my life; once in a while there always comes an event, something, that makes me convinced that I won’t be able to survive. but then I do. I mend, I heal, I keep going on. life moves on. it always astonishes me, how much I can take. how many times I thought I could not continue anymore, but here I am. still strong, well and alive. a better person, too, perhaps. do you think I am a better person? do you think you are a better person? sometimes I am not sure how I would answer, if I was pressed for it. other times, I don’t have a choice, but to think that you are a better person; that you have always been. for my own sake.

life unravels in a strange way, don’t you think? you meet people and they change your life in such a way that there is no coming back. you taught me a lot, you showed me a lot, you gave me a lot and you took away even more. you took away the most. if there is anything I learnt this year, it’s one thing only: no matter how bad, how hard it gets I will survive. life goes on, and you will always be there, whether I like it or not. on the other hand, I think I do like it.

here’s to 2014 – whatever it will bring.

with love,

signed oscar wilde.

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